Wilmington, NC 03 - Murder On The Ghost Walk

stairs.
    We kicked at him and he swam into a corner.
    Melanie ran up the stairs. "That does it. I'm getting out of here." She banged on the door and threw her shoulder against it but it would n't budge.
    I jumped off the stairs and splashed in the knee-deep water toward one of the storage rooms with Melanie yelling after me, "Are you crazy? Where are you going?"
    "I'm not going to just sit here and wait until the water's up over our heads."
    I remembered seeing some tools in one of the cabinets in the scullery. Flinging open cabinet doors, I found what I was looking for, a screw driver with a bright red handle. Dashing back to the steps, I mounted them two at a time. "Move aside. Maybe I can get the l ock open."
    Melanie stood close behind me, nudging my back. “Help! Somebody help us!” she screamed.
    An especially loud thunderbolt crashed near the house. The lights flickered, wavered, then died. The basement was thrown into pitch blackness.
    We screamed together. Then, like a miracle, the lights blinked back on again. "Dear lord, let them hold," I breathed.
    I inserted the blade of the screwdriver between the door and the jamb. The lock's plate fit flush on the left edge of the door. The lock was simple, an old-fashioned spring lock with a bolt that slid out of the plate into a reciprocal chamber carved in the door jamb. That's where I attacked.
    "Hurry up," Melanie screeched. "The water's getting higher." Her hysteria was contagious.
    "Stop pushing," I snapped. "And keep quiet so I can concentrate."
    The lights flashed, died. I groaned. Sliding the screwdriver up and down, I felt when it hit the bolt. Tilting the screwdriver, I wedged its tip inside the chamber and under the bolt. I almost had it when the door suddenly flew open. A flash of lightning revealed an old woman holding the door open, motioning for me to step through.
    I scrambled out of the basement. Melanie hurried behind me.
    " Oh, thank goodness, you got us out of there," she cried.
    "I didn't. An old woman opened the door."
    "Who? That old woman who lives across the street? Where did she go? She isn't here now. Come on. Let's see how bad it is outside. Maybe we can leave."
    She opened the front door a crack while I remained behind, looking around. I knew who I'd seen. And it wasn't Ellen Burns.
    We peered out into the storm. The big magnolias were holding their own but limbs and thick leaves thrashed. Smaller trees were down. Water flooded the sidewalk and street and was rising up around my car. The wind tore through the trees, battering the house.
    "I think we'd better wait upstairs. This house is solid. There's a balcony off the master bedroom, we can watch the storm from there."
    With only lightning flashes to light our way, we climbed the stairs, moved past the ballroom, then down the hall and into Shelby's bedroom. I jerked open the French doors onto the balcony at the rear of the house.
    "We'll get wet," Melanie shouted. "Oh, shoot, where's my brain? My cell phone's in my purse downstairs. I'll get it. We'll call for help."
    Without warning she threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. "Listen, baby sister, I just want to tell you, you are the bravest thing. I had a hand in raising you, so I'm going to take some of the credit."
    "Brave?" I asked, not trusting my ears.
    "'Course you're brave. Went to New York City when you were only eighteen. Found yourself a nice roommate. Got your degree. I didn't have the nerve to do something like that. And you were wonderful with Teddy. And you . . . you got us out of that basement. I was too flustered to think. Now let me go get my phone before you start me bawling."
    I shook my head. What could you do with a sister like Melanie but love her?
    "Let's see if we can find some candles and matches," I said. A lightning flash revealed candles in candlesticks on the dresser. Rummaging through the drawers, I found matches. But would they be any good after six years? I struck a few with no luck, then one ignited. I lit two candles, one for the room, and one for Melanie to carry back down the stairs.
    "Take off those high heels. I don't want you falling down those stairs like Shelby did."
    Melanie kicked off her shoes then disappeared down the hall, a wavering light that got smaller and smaller. "Hold onto the banister !" I yell ed after her.
    I saw then how Melanie and I had changed. How I'd changed. All my life I longed for her approval. Now I had it. And something more . We were equals. Finally, I'd